After more than 10 years at the sharp end of policing, Jane was used to seeing the desolation and despair that is family violence.
Countless times she helped victims, dealt with offenders and tried to find strategies to minimise the risk of future attacks. And like many police she was frustrated that some chose to stay in abusive relationships – either because they feared that doing something would increase the risk or hoping that doing nothing would make the problem disappear.
Even while working as a uniformed officer and as a detective she continued her university studies, ultimately leaving to work in the health industry.
Her plan was to help people before they needed emergency intervention.
Smart, independent and well trained, she saw herself as part of the solution until she became part of a problem that for generations remained hidden behind closed doors.
As a cop she urged victims to come forward and sign complaints but when it was her turn she suffered in silence – too ashamed to take her own advice.
Wednesday, November 25, is the UN's International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women, known in Australia as White Ribbon Day.
Many typecast domestic violence as a socio-economic crime. The naive and the conceited hide behind the cliche that only the disadvantaged and downtrodden are trapped in violent relationships.
While there are links between poverty, unemployment and domestic violence, no strata of society is immune from what really is a national scandal.
From the beginning "John" looked to be a man on the move – an upwardly mobile professional with an outwardly caring nature and a bright future.
Jane met him at university while both were undertaking postgraduate studies. He started to bump into her at the uni cafe, they found mutual interests and began an attentive friendship.
He wasn't the most charismatic bloke running around but he was intelligent and compassionate – traits valued by Jane who was still bruised from the break-up of a long-term relationship.
"The thing that struck me about him was he was so nice," she says, still perplexed as to how she could get it so wrong.
For her it was never love but the relationship made her feel safe and comfortable – qualities that would eventually be replaced by fear and uncertainty.
At first they drifted into the relationship. He was between jobs and moved in for a few weeks to save money. And he just didn't leave.
The first sign of his violent temper came from nowhere. She contradicted him over a minor matter and he dropped her, "In a sort of spear tackle".
He then walked calmly into another room to watch television, leaving her more shocked than hurt.
It was so unexpected it was easy to write it off as a one-time event. "I can't believe how gullible I was."
"He was very verbally abusive – abuse doesn't even seem quite the right word – he would be plain nasty and demeaning – but then go back to being very nice again and would tell me that I was oversensitive."
When Jack, their first-born son, was just six weeks, John flared again. When the baby cried one night the father started screaming, "shut him up or I will – for good".
"The first time he was physically abusive was when Jack was two years old. He quite roughly pulled him back and twisted his arm to force him into his chair at a cafe. People around paused and looked but then continued with their meals as if they didn't notice."
But someone did. When she returned to the Lygon Street cafe some weeks later, the manager quietly said he was one of five brothers whose father was regularly violent.
"He said what happened wasn't OK and if I needed help to come to him".
But she didn't. In fact this ex-cop with a decade of street experience and a CV full of academic qualifications felt shame and refused to confide in anyone.
Two more children followed and while he would yell and threaten all three, it was the eldest who was subjected to physical assaults.
She thought of leaving but felt he would be more dangerous outside of the family house. "I was so worried what would happen if he was given unsupervised access to the children."
He had already shown that as well as exploding into spontaneous violence he had a vindictive streak – once bragging of beating a love rival from a previous relationship so badly, "He was on crutches for three months".
"Something that stays with me is that I spent years in a job where I tried to protect people and work within the law to help them find safety and justice, and I couldn't find a way of protecting my own son.
"I'd been in Hoddle Street [1987 mass shootings], done raids for the Ty-Eyre Task Force [1988 Walsh Street police murders], I'd been in pub fights when I stepped in to help colleagues in trouble, but I couldn't successfully protect my children from one man."
"I increasingly minimised the time they spent together. I gave up my career to be at home full time. I ended up getting the kids into bed at night by the time he got home.
"In the end, I'd take them out for most of each weekend – because it was safer for us to be out of the house."
There would be months where there was relative peace and she would hope the worst was behind them and then there would be another explosion.
"There were other incidents; mostly I'd get there first and form a physical barrier with Jack behind me in a corner and, on occasions after his younger brother was born, with a baby in my arms."
"After all those years of going to domestics I could finally relate to many of those battered women who refused police intervention.
"I somehow would tell myself that this would hopefully be the last time – that he would see how damaging it was to his son and he'd not do it again.
"The final time he assaulted Jack (then 9) he put his hands around his neck and was strangling him. It took about three seconds for me to be there, hammering on his head and screaming at him to let go and probably another three before he let go, leaving Jack semi-conscious."
Jack recalls, "He grabbed me around the neck with both his hands and started choking me while pushing me up against the hallway wall. I remember everything going a bit dark but didn't pass out. I couldn't breathe. I thought I was going to die. In the first couple of seconds I tried to push him off but he was way too strong and I sort of gave up."
A few weeks later, "He said that sometimes he gets very angry and that I need not to upset him". Within a month John moved out.
The younger brother remains filled with anger at his father. "He used to scream abuse at me. I was very scared and I didn't know what I had done wrong."
For a while John wanted visitation rights but Jane believed it was safer to meet in a public.
"One day, at the Botanical Gardens, he lost it again and was screaming abuse at me. Everyone just kept jogging and walking past without a pause. The children were terrified."
And that is what the White Ribbon campaign is about. Not just jogging past but getting involved in a form of passive intervention. You don't need to be a Superman but more a Supersleuth. Stop – look, make a call. Let the bully know he is accountable and the victim that she is not alone.
Years later, Jane's mother would say she feared John was violent at home but didn't raise her concerns because her generation was taught "not to interfere".
"I know it's been said for many years that if there is violence in the home, the woman should get out. I'm not sure that much has been said about how to protect the children," says Jane.
Sadly she is right. Women can be at their greatest risk when they leave a violent relationship.
And it is the same for children who are killed by their fathers as a perverted act of revenge against their ex-partners who have the temerity to just want a normal life.
Jane is one of the lucky ones. She has moved to the country with the children to start afresh.
The former policewoman refused to report the assaults as she still fears what her ex-partner may do.
"There are a lot of things I regret and feel guilty about aside from the actual abuse. My children have a childhood forever tainted by fear. They will never be able to look back on a childhood as a special time free from worries and responsibilities."
Police have made family violence a key priority and this year set up a dedicated Family Violence Command. Victoria Police attended 65,000 family violence incidents last year or one every eight minutes. They hope the increase in reports is due to women feeling they no longer have to suffer in silence.
But many still do. So the question remains. How many Janes are out there?
